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Necropolis Snail
by
Penelope Scott
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Cemetery pigeons, checking out the graves Cemetery pigeons, leaving little footprints on the dirt beside a paved walkway Cemetery pigeons, are you from abroad? Do you ever think about the pigeons that you lost? Well, I don't want to be here I don't want to go home I don't want to take up any more space I don't want to just b*t*h and moan Cemetery pigeons, house pets of the dead Where do you go when the lake is frozen and you've got no stupid red hat for your little grey head? Cemetery pigeons, phantom skunks Howls and wails and necropolis snails and the young postmodern punks exhale cigarette smoke A cold blueberry cloud During a brief stint I smoked that sh*t on the delivery route out of town It felt so unimportant But I really f**king tried, I could do so much better if I knew how to do it, I cried, while the anarchists danced and got high, they sang "f**k the city" But I'm always caught in between
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